


Time

by Dand3l1on



Series: Hermione Granger and the New Perspective [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dand3l1on/pseuds/Dand3l1on
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's perspective, beginning summer before her third year. Enjoy the adventure from a different angle!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Place Like Home

Dishes clattered in the sink while steam fogged the kitchen window. Hermione scraped burnt rice out of a pot and into the garbage bin. The television was on in the living room, and occasional laughter drifted into the kitchen.

Back at the sink, Hermione plunged the heavy pot into the bubbles. Water splashed onto her shoe, but she didn't notice. Her mind was elsewhere.

It was at King's Cross station,.to be exact, only two weeks prior. The Hogwarts Express was emptying for the summer months. She was saying goodbye to Harry and Ron, hugging Ginny, and almost missed waving goodbye to Neville as his Gran tugged him across the platform. Hermione's parents arrived and had begun walking her back to the car. She realized time was up, and something exploded inside. She turned around and ran back toward the Weasley's, almost knocking into Colin Creevy on the way.

None of them seemed to notice at first. Which was for the better, because next moment she was tugging on Fred's arm. He turned to look at her, his face breaking into a smile. When he stopped walking, the whole Weasley family stopped too. Hermione felt humiliation burn her cheeks. The entire platform was watching to see what was so important it required a sprint.

“I-I-I, I'll miss you all. Have a great summer.”

A chorus of “You too!” split the awkward silence. They gave her more waves goodbye and turned away to continue across the platform. Mrs. Weasley smiled so brightly, Hermione felt like she must've known something was up.

Hermione sighed into the bubbles, and scrubbed more aggressively at the very stuck, very burnt rice in the bottom of the pot.

Why  _ then _ ? Of all the times for her to realize she liked Fred, why then? And why had she been so awkward about it?!

She scrubbed.

And what exactly was she supposed to do when she got back to school? He was two years older! They didn't have class together. He was always busy either with Quidditch or Detention. They didn't have anything in common! Because of Ron, they saw each other here and there. But he was usually busy making jokes with George and Lee.

She scrubbed harder.

She felt incredibly frustrated. Why couldn't she get a crush on someone like… like Neville. She was pretty certain he liked her already. But the thought of going out with him just… didn't… quite… work in her mind. He was really nice! But she couldn't honestly say she wanted to be his girlfriend.

However, when Hermione found herself thinking back to stealing Polyjuice Potion ingredients with Fred, she felt glowy and wiggly inside. She had to try really hard not to over-romanticize their carriage ride on the way to Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year.

Maybe she could owl someone? Definitely not Ron or Harry. She supposed Lavender would know about this stuff. But then of course telling Lavender would mean telling just about everyone.

“If you scrub that pot any longer, you'll put a hole in the bottom.”

“Huh?” Hermione looked back at her mother, who was at the kitchen door.

“I was saying, I think that's clean enough. You've just about scrubbed the dickens out of that poor pot. Something weighing on your mind?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Hermione rinsed the pot. Jean took it from her with a towel, dried it, and put it away.

“What are my two girls getting up to?” Hugh came up and rested his elbows on the counter. 

There was no way Hermione was going to discuss boys with her dad.

Remarkably, Jean seemed to catch wind of that. “ _Your_ _girls_ are going out for ice cream, and you can't come. No boys allowed.”

Hugh feigned a wound to the chest. “Oh, ow, the agony! I can only be healed by a small order of mint chip!"

“Oh stop it, you!” Jean swatted at her husband with the towel she was still holding. “Let's go, Hermione, before your father dies of ice cream failure.”

A few minutes later after a short car ride, they were digging into their ice cream. Hermione thought she was probably too old for sprinkles and the red bar stools that spin, but the shop was fairly empty, so she decided it didn't really matter. After a couple full rotations on the barstool, she settled into her dessert.

“Ok sweetheart, your father is at home, you have your ice cream, now spill.” Jean took a large bite of Rocky Road.

“I don't know what to talk about! I mean, there's this guy I like, but I don't know what to do about it, and I don't know if there is something I really can do.”

“Hmm, okeh, teh me abouh him.” Jean replied thickly through her ice cream.

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. “Well, he's two years older-”

Jean gulped dramatically. “Older men! Wow!”

“Mum, you're  _ really _ not helping.”

“Sorry, go on.”

“I feel like he probably wouldn’t notice me in that way. He's a Gryffindor too, so we see each other just about every meal and during study hall. I have my friends, he has his, but we still kind of run into each other. He's nice to me, and he's helped me with my schoolwork a few times.”

“What's this bloke's name?”

“His name is Fred.”

“Oh! He's a Weasley boy, right? Didn't we meet a Fred last year in Diagon Alley?”

“Yes, he's Ron's older brother, and he's one of the twins.”

“So, you like Fred, do you also like George?”

“What? No! Don't be ridiculous. They're completely different.”

Mrs. Granger smiled and held up her hands in surrender. “Oho, I'm so sorry! Do continue.”

“Well, I can't explain it. They just, are!”

“Ok, ok. Now, just out of curiosity, what about Harry and Ron? Do you think you could ever like them? And do they know that you like Fred?”

“Mum, they're like brothers. They're both great, really! But I, don't…”

“See them like that?”

“Yeah. And I don’t think I could ever tell them about a crush. They’d be weird and it would be just awful trying to explain it to them.”

Jean smiled knowingly and nodded. Hermione giggled at the idea that she wasn’t the only one who knew boys could be awkward.

Jean used her empty spoon to point at Hermione. “Ok, well, how about that Neville chap? He likes you!”

Hermione blushed. “How do you know that?”

“When we visited while you were petrified, he brought you a very lovely card.”

“You read it!?” Ice cream dripped down Hermione’s chin. Jean laughed, then patted a napkin onto her daughter's face. It stuck to the ice cream, which made Jean laugh even more.

“Hermione, the boy threw it at me and then ran away. It's his fault, really.”

“Mum, you're- you can't blame Neville!”

“Why not?”

“Because it's Neville! He wouldn't hurt a spider if it crawled under his shoe.”

“Aw, what a darling! Why don't you like him? He sounds very nice!”

“I  _ do _ like him as a friend, but it's the same thing, I just don't-  _ like _ him, not like  _ that _ .”

“Fair enough. Ok, so, Fred.” Mrs. Granger took another big bite of ice cream.

“Fred. Right. Well, he's cute, he's funny, and, oh I don't know!” Hermione pushed her ice cream aside and buried her head in her hands.

“Hey! Where'd you go?” Mrs. Granger lightly rubbed Hermione's back. “Sweetheart, it's ok to have crushes. You're young. You're not going to marry anyone this year. So if you don't have a complex chart as to why you like a person, you know what, that's ok.”

Hermione nodded and took a bite of her melting ice cream.

“Also, who says he has no reason to notice you? He wrote you a card too, after all.”

“Mum, do you screen all my mail? Or just the stuff that comes in while I'm unconscious?”

“After Neville's sweet letter, I wanted to see what your other friends had to say. It's not like you were reading them at that moment.”

Hermione shook her head. “Unbelievable! Well, what did you glean?”

“Don't be so snippy, those letters may have kept you at Hogwarts.”

Her heart plummeted. “I didn't even know that discussion was on the table! Why would you take me out?”

“Hermione, you were  _ petrified.  _ At mid-term they wrote us saying they had the issue under control. Well, they really didn't. So your father and I had a discussion about sending you to-” Jean’s voice dropped to a whisper, “-to a Non-magical-”

“Muggle.”

“-Yes, to a Muggle school.”

Hermione gave a hearty sigh. “And?”

“And the letters won us over. You have friends there. You are growing into what you were destined to be. I may not always understand the things you talk about, but I can tell you're really great at it and that you really love it. Not to mention your high marks. Regardless of how we feel about the school, we really are very proud of you.”

Hermione blushed. “Thanks, mum.”

“Of course, we'd really like it if we could have a year where we didn't get a note from the headmaster. That would be highly preferable.”

“It's not my fault! I don't go looking for these things. Havoc just seems to creep up on me!”

“Sweetheart, you've been at the helm of havoc since you were a toddler. I expect nothing less. Especially now that you have help from Harry and Ron, may the gods above save us all.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Mrs. Granger gave Hermione a playful nudge. They finished up the dregs of their ice cream. 

“Alright Kiddo, let's get this mint chip home to your father before he collapses.”

Hermione slid off her stool. “Coming, mum.”


	2. Never Neville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owl post at the Granger's is making Hermione's head spin.

Hermione could feel the prickle of a sunburn on her neck. The curls that had escaped her ponytail were now sticking to beads of sweat on her face. The occasional insect buzzing by made her scratch at imaginary tickles and itches.

Hugh and Jean had tasked Hermione with keeping up the garden this summer, and it was not going well. She had even written to Neville once, asking for help. He had responded, but his letters had become a source of an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of Hermione’s stomach.

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ Hello! Good to hear from you! _

_ I'm afraid I don't know what to do about dandelions. Not without magic anyway. Sorry. What other plants are you trying to grow? _

_ How is your summer going? Are you travelling anywhere? _

_ It was great to hear from you! Hope you write back soon! _

_ Love, _

_ Neville _

 

 

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ Hello again! _

_ I've had poison ivy as well. It's terrible. I hope it feels better soon. What do muggles use for that, anyway? Whatever it is, you're so brilliant, I'm sure you've figured it out. _

_ When do you leave for France? That sounds exciting! _

_ Love, _

_ Neville _

 

 

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ I'm glad the poison ivy is clearing up. _

_ Gran and I are coming to London for a short visit. Want to get together in Diagon Alley? _

_ Hope to see you soon! _

_ Love, _

_ Neville _

 

Just thinking about meeting up with him made her stomach do a weird sinking, turn, flop maneuver. How was she supposed to tell him she didn't like him? It was obvious how he felt about her. Why couldn't she just like him back? It seemed easier than having to hurt his feelings.

She supposed this feeling was what people meant when they said “Not my type.”

“It's awfully mean, ‘not my type.’ What kind of response is that to someone saying they like you?!” Hermione grumbled to the pile of weeds she was unearthing. She stood up, stretched her aching muscles, and threw the weeds into the garbage bin. She pressed her hand into her shoulder, trying to work the kinks out. However, the dirt on her hands and the beginnings of a sunburn didn't make for a good combination. After rinsing her hands under the spigot, Hermione slouched into one of the garden chairs. Staring up at the sky, she noticed an owl off in the distance.

“Neville, please don't pester me to respond. I'll write you tonight!”

But it wasn't the Longbottom owl. As it grew nearer, it became quite evident whose owl it was.

“Errol! Hello!”

There was a wheezing hoot in response.

She waved her arms wildly to draw his attention. “I’m down here! Don’t try for my window!”

Errol seemed to understand, as his course turned slightly towards the dirt-covered witch. But panic grew in Hermione.

“He’s coming in too steep, he’s not going to make the landing.”

She stood up and grabbed the garbage bin, pacing back and forth, trying to position herself.

“Almost there, Errol! I’ve got you! It's all dandelions and crab grass in here!”

With a small explosion of feathers and dirt, Hermione managed the most athletic display she’d ever performed and caught Errol in the weed-filled garbage bin.

“Not too bad! I’d say that’s one of your better landings! Wouldn’t you?”

Errol  _ seemed _ to enjoy the soft bed of freshly plucked weeds. Thought, it was hard to tell, really, whether he was merely sleeping or suffering a mild concussion.

“Let’s get you inside, shall we?”

Hermione tidied up, putting her gloves and trowel away in the small shed. She left the bin at the side of the house then picked up the limp owl.

“How about some water first? I’m parched.”

Once inside, she poured herself a glass of water, leaving the tap running for Errol. She gave him a slight jostle.

“Wake up, you silly bird. Come on, get some water.”

She set him down in the empty sink. With the great clatter of talons on steel, he rolled upright and began drinking out of the faucet. When he finished drinking, he ducked his head and beak under the running water. The well-travelled owl shook out his feathers, spraying Hermione with droplets of muck.

“Ew! Errol!” She sighed and turned off the water. “I suppose I’m already sweaty and disgusting anyway.”

After a shower and a fresh change of clothes, Hermione checked on Errol. He was asleep in the apple crate she’d set up for him. She delicately untied the letter from his foot, then sat down at her desk.

_ Hermione, _

_ Hey! Great news! _

_ Dad won a contest and we’re all going to Egypt! Ginny and I are pretty excited. We’re all excited. Somehow, Percy is managing to make it sound boring. He makes everything boring! _

_ Fred and George set a pretty good explosion in their room last week. Mum isn’t happy about the scorch marks on the walls, but she said she’s not fixing their room until they are done blowing up her house. It left a cool design though. It kinda looks like Harry’s hair. _

_ Listen, don’t tell Ginny I said this, but she’s pretty shaken up after, you know, Tom Riddle and all that. She won’t talk about it with me. I know you two were kind of getting along before all that. Could you write her, and maybe just see if she’ll talk to you? Don’t tell anyone I asked. _

_ Let’s get together with Harry in Diagon Alley when we get our supplies for the year. _

_ Enjoy France! Just don’t come back pronouncing Croissant like you live there. _

_ Ron _

 

Hermione pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. She dusted her chin with a quill and stared out the window while thinking of what to write.

 

_ Ron, _

_ That’s great news! I’m so happy you get to go on Holiday, and to Egypt of all places. I hope you get a chance to go in a pyramid. I want to hear all about it when you get back! _

_ Of course we should meet in Diagon Alley. Why wouldn’t we? _

Hermione paused. The quill dripped ink splotches onto the desk.

“ _ Why wouldn’t we?” _

Why indeed. Why was it so easy to say yes to Ron and so difficult to give Neville an answer? She wondered if she should invite Neville to join them. But then, if he does  _ like  _ her, it could be really weird. What if Harry and Ron teased her about being liked by a boy? This was all so stupid. If she were meeting a boy in Diagon Alley, there was only one she really wanted to see. With a heavy sigh, Hermione pushed aside thoughts of Fred kissing her in between bookshelves at Flourish and Blotts, and kept writing.

_ I’d love to write to Ginny. I wasn’t sure if I should, because when we met up in the hospital wing, she seemed like she wanted to be left alone. But I’ll write her, promise! _

_ I’ll make sure to start using a proper French accent when I talk about any pastry, just to bug you and Harry. _

_ I hope you all have a splendid time in Egypt! Try to learn something new! Tell everyone hello for me! _

_ Hermione _

 

With Ron’s letter finished, Hermione took a moment to check that Errol was still breathing, which he was. She pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, and thought about where to begin.

Harry had told her about the ordeal with Ginny and Tom Riddle. It wasn’t until the train home that she, Harry and Ron were finally alone and able to put all their pieces of the story together. None of them had wanted to discuss it in front of Ginny. She had grown very quiet the one time they had brought it up around her. It was Ron who had noticed when she began to cry. He had to cut across Harry to shut him up. Ron had gently rested his arm around his sister and said, “ _ It’s ok, Ginny. We’re all here, we’re all safe. We'll be home real soon. I betcha Mum is already cooking!” _

Ron had simply known how to be a big brother, how to be a good sibling. Hermione felt ill-equipped to handle this type of thing since she didn’t have siblings. But she felt it was worth giving a go.

 

_ Ginny, _

_ Hello! Ron said you are all going to Egypt. That sounds fantastic! I hope you have loads of fun. _

_ Listen, I don’t care about what happened with the Diary and Riddle and all that. I mean, I know it’s really scary stuff. (Harry told me about what it was like in the Chamber of Secrets, I hope that’s ok.) But you shouldn’t let it keep you from people. No one holds it against you. _

_ Anyway, I hope we can hang out more this year. I like you, and I need help keeping Ron and Harry in check. Haha _

_ Have fun in Egypt! _

_ Hermione _

_ PS. I made Bluebell Flame nightlights for my roommates last year, I could make you one if you like. _

 

Hermione was folding up the letters to Ginny and Ron when an idea crossed her mind. She started pacing the room, talking to the unconscious owl.

“What if I write to Fred? I could write to George too, to cover my tracks. Maybe I should write to Percy, too. That’s a lot of letters, just to say hello. That’s not worth it. Is it? What if Fred wrote me back?”

An image of an extensive letter containing expressions of Fred’s undisclosed feelings for her came to mind.

“Ugh!” She groaned, fell flat on the bed and covered her face with her arms. “This is stupid. Why do I like him?!”

“Why do you like whom?”

“Dad!” Hermione sat bolt upright. “ What are you- when did you get home?”

Hugh chuckled. “My last appointment cancelled, I got home about five minutes ago. I heard you pacing, not your normal feather light steps, is everything ok?”

“Fine, fine, everything’s fine.” She flopped back onto her pillow, once again covering her face with her arms. “It’s just a stupid crush on a stupid boy that’s in my stupid house at my stupid school.”

“Hermione Jean Granger, there is nothing, I repeat, nothing, that will ever be stupid about you.”

“Gee, thanks Dad, but I know you kind of have to say that.”

“This is… accurate. But! But! Don’t give me that look, let me finish! Yes, I am  _ supposed _ to tell you that you are amazing, intelligent, and beautiful. But in your case, you actually  _ are _ amazing, intelligent, and beautiful. It’s a luxury not all fathers have! Not everyone can be as proud of their child as I am of you. Other children are quite simply…”

“Not as smart?”

“I was going to say ugly and idiotic wankers…”

Hermione sat up again. “Dad!”

“Hey, if the shoe fits…”

Hermione laughed and shook her head in disbelief.

“Listen, if this boy isn’t privy to how wonderful you are, forget him. Maybe hang around that Neville kid, he seems to like you.”

“You too!?”

“I can’t help it if your mother is nosey!”

“You two are  _ unbelieveable _ !”

“I'm unbelievable? You’re the one who goes to a magical school. Pot and kettle? Hmm? I dunno, kiddo.”

Hermione threw her pillow at her dad, who laughed and shut the door behind him. She sat back down at her desk and began to write.

 

_ Dear Percy, _

Hermione stared at the middle of the page. She looked at Errol. “What on earth do I even say to Percy?!”

After a boring half hour of writing to Percy and George, Hermione realized that she needed to respond to Neville. She wrote a short note, claiming that her parents told her she couldn’t go, and was really sorry she was going to miss out on his visit.

Which was a lie.

She felt miserable.

Hermione really didn’t know what to do with Neville. Pushing her guilt aside, she set out to write the letter she really wanted to write.

 

_ Dear Fred, _

She crumpled up the parchment and tossed it in the bin under her desk. “What am I thinking!? I shouldn’t write ‘dear.’ That’ll be a dead giveaway.”

 

_ Fred, _

_ Hope your summer is going well. I heard about the trip to Egypt from Ron. It sounds really exciting! _

_ He also told me you have a scorch mark in your room that looks like Harry’s hair. Haha _

_ Anyway, hope you’re having fun. See you in September! _

_ Hermione _

_ PS This is the stupidest letter and I can’t believe I’m sooooo boring! _

Hermione ripped the paper into tiny bits before throwing them into the bin. “Idiotic.”

 

_ Fred _

_ I love you with aaaall my heart giggle giggle bat my eyelashes _

“AAAAUGH!”

“Alright Hermione?” Hugh’s voice drifted up the stairs.

“Fine!” She hollered back, the exasperation in her voice completely undisguised.

 

_ Fred, _

_ Hey! I heard you’re going to Egypt. Did you know that the Scarab is a symbol of rebirth because dung beetles lay their eggs in wads of rolled up dung so when they hatch there is food readily available? _

_ Pretty cool, huh? _

_ Anyway, hope you have a blast! _

_ Hermione _

 

“Oh Errol! He's going to think I'm a nutter!” But before she could re-think any of the letters, she folded them all together and attached them to the ancient owl's leg. He responded with a long, wheezing snore.


	3. From the desk of M. McGonagall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So we’re not letting her do this, right?”
> 
> Hugh sipped his tea and glanced at the letter. “Well, just a moment..."

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,_

_It is our pleasure to inform you that Hermione Granger has been selected for the Time Turner Program at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This program was developed for students demonstrating extraordinary levels of study and comprehension._

_The purpose of the Time Turner Program is to allow our most advanced students the opportunity to participate in additional lessons. It is our way of offering a challenge to those who find ordinary schedules less than engaging. Students in this program will take a full schedule of classwork as well as their elective coursework. This is made possible by the Time Turner's ability to move the student back in time, where they will spend the same hour in a different lesson. Enclosed is a pamphlet that will further explain the use of the Time Turner and the importance of its use remaining classified._

_Ms. Granger must attend a mandatory practical seminar explaining rules, regulations, and instructions for the Time Turner. The seminar will be taught by Prof. Saul Croaker, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, July 8-14._

_Travel arrangements may be made with The Ministry for Magic._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

 

  
“Well?” Hugh implored, one eyebrow arched high.

“Well what?” Jean stared at her husband incredulously.

“What do you think about our daughter engaging in time travel?”

“Oh, well, let's see er… I think it’s mental! And you?”

“I think it’s mental, as well.”

“So we’re not letting her do this, right?”

Hugh sipped his tea and glanced at the letter. “Well, just a moment. If she’s taking a full schedule and additional classes, she might not have the energy to get in all the trouble she seems so keen on finding.”

Jean stalled out. She frowned, trying to imagine all the what-if’s. “Do you really think so?”

“I’m pretty sure this is turning an addict over to their own devices. My guess is she’ll be so sleep deprived by Christmas, she’ll beg us for a normal schedule.”

“And you’re ok with that? That seems rather cruel. She’s only a child.”

“Yes, but she’s a brilliant one. And some of the lessons she needs to learn come from outside the library. Also, when we visited during term, Professor McGonagall seemed like she had Hermione pegged. I think she know’s what she’s doing.”

Jean began mulling it over. “So…”

“So I say yes.”

After a long pause, Jean conceded. “Well, it certainly would be nice to have a year where we didn’t receive a letter from Dumbledore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Mr. Hugh Granger and Mrs. Jean Granger. I just… I just named them something. I got tired of writing “Mrs. Granger said….”


	4. Professor Saul Croaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes a course on the time turner.

Professor Saul Croaker cleared his throat, making Hermione jump. She was on edge, to say the least. As she was the only student in the classroom, she felt it very important to pay full attention. However, she was having difficulty following this new teacher. He had the air of someone that didn't spend much time around other people. His pale face was wrinkled in a frown, as though he often contemplated complex problems. He was kind and informative, and this created a discord between his facial expression and his generally pleasant demeanor.

Professor McGonagall sat in the back of the classroom. She wore her usual stern visage, but was involved in her lesson planning. She caught Hermione looking back at her and nodded to the front of the classroom as if to say, “Pay attention.”

Hermione's chair creaked as she turned back around to face Professor Croaker. He was standing at the left side of the chalkboard, smiling at her.

“Let's talk about dimensions. Can you tell me what has zero dimension?”

“A point,” Hermione blurted.

Professor Croaker drew a point on the board. “What has one dimension?”

“A line containing two points.”

He drew a second point about a foot away from the first, and drew a straight line through them.   
He asked, “Two dimensions?”

“Add a third point, and draw lines connecting it to the other points. It becomes a plane.”

He drew a third point, and connected the three points into an isosceles triangle. “All right, so far so good. What would make this,” he pointed to the triangle, “three dimensional.”

“If, in addition to height and width, it had depth. So, it would become a pyramid.”

“Excellent.” He drew the two lines and shaded the new side. “A pyramid.” He gave a small chuckle. “You know, one of my co-workers went to Egypt on holiday. Took his whole family. Lovely bunch.” He began to draw a family next to the pyramid.

Hermione recognized the moving stick figures immediately. “The Weasleys! I know them! Ron’s one of my best friends. He’s in my year. Ginny’s in the year after us.”

The stick Weasley’s began to wave from the chalkboard. Stick Ron and Ginny began shoving each other lightly on the shoulder. The stick Fred and George tried to throw stick Percy onto the chalk tray. But McGonagall cleared her throat, and the stick Weasley’s fell back in line.

Croaker hastily erased them all and turned slightly pink. “Now, Ms. Granger, can you tell me about the fourth dimension?”

Hermione hated it when someone asked a question to which she didn't know the answer. She searched her mental catalogue for something that might fit. However, all that came to mind was and image of Ron and Harry trying to wear four pairs of 3D glasses. With a tight feeling in her chest, she shook her head no.   
  
“Quite alright. I'll explain. We have our Pyramid here. Let us put that pyramid on a figurative line, and we’ll call that line, time. This image of a three dimensional object moving through time is what we call the fourth dimension. We can imagine photos of the Pyramids in Egypt, when they were first build, when they were slightly weathered, and now, as ancient ruins. We can think of separate images on this timeline. But we cannot perceive the Pyramids moving through time as one whole body. We simply are not capable.”

Hermione felt her brain beginning to cloud. She briefly wondered when lunch would be. Professor Croaker seemed aware of her shrinking capacity to understand him.

“Let’s come back to our pyramid here on the chalkboard, and we'll draw a line indicating Time.” Directly below the pyramid, he drew a line stretching across the whole board, and marked it with a capital “T.”

“We move through time in a linear fashion. Children age, the elderly long for yesteryear but cannot relive it. Time moves in a forward direction. It’s thought to be unstoppable. And, generally, it is. We can’t cover great distances in time without dire consequence. But we have discovered a way to create small loops in time.”

Professor Croaker drew a loop coming directly off the middle of the timeline and joined up with it again, farther back. Hermione thought it looked like the most boring rollercoaster, or like a large soap bubble on the edge of the tub.

“When we create these loops, we create a Closed Time-like Curve. This is how you will be able to take your requested coursework over the following term.”

He erased the pyramid from the left side of the board and drew a stick Hermione, complete with curly hair that seemed to squiggle.

“If this is you at dawn, you will move forward through time in a linear fashion all the way through breakfast.”

Above the line, he drew a sun, then to the right of that a plate of bacon and eggs, and to the right of that a clock.

“Here,” he pointed to the clock, “Is your first class. Let’s pretend it’s Transfiguration, shall we? You will go through the hour in class, complete it, and then that’s where it gets tricky.”

McGonagall looked up from her lesson plans.

“You will need to remember where you were an hour prior. That is the spatial point you will return to upon employing the Time Turner. If you were in the Great Hall and used it, there might be an uproar when there suddenly are two of you very near each other. Not to mention the shock to yourself. Your, er, past, self. I suppose it might shock your future self too. Not to worry! Simply find a secluded area before you employ the Time Turner.”

“Now we loop back to just before your first class, and you will now attend a different class. Let’s say Divination.”

McGonagall coughed, and Hermione felt it wasn’t quite on accident.

“You go through the hour in Divination, loop around, and are then going to swoop back down to linear time.”

He drew an arrow circling anti-clockwise within the time loop, and then an arrow exiting it from left to right.

“Yet again, remember where you were. If you don’t meet up with the spatial location that your past self was at the moment you employed the Time Turner, then you might draw attention to yourself by means of dislocation.”

Hermione knew she absolutely understood what he was saying, and also, absolutely did not.

“I'll explain a little further. You will actually enter the Time loop at the end of the hour. In the 9-10:00 hour, you would enter the loop at 10:00. Well, most likely 9:55, when class is dismissed. So, at 9:55, you turn the Time Turner once. It will take you back to 8:55. Where would you be?”

“I suppose I'd be just outside the great hall or close to my first class.”

“Very good! That is where you will find yourself once again after you employ the Time Turner. Now what will happen at 9:55?”

“I'll be leaving Divination, but the other me, the past me that is sitting in Transfiguration, that me would be seen using the Time Turner and then disappearing. I think.”

“You think correctly! Well done. Do you see the importance of remembering where you were before and after the hour?”

“I do. I think everyone would be quite suspicious of me popping up over here and then disappearing over there.”

“Indeed they would. And on that topic, let's move on to Time Paradoxes. Open your textbook to page 15.”

Hermione opened her book to find diagrams of people in various phases of a time paradox. Some of the people were crossed out with red ink. She felt a shiver of panic run down her spine.

Professor Croaker cleared his throat. “Oh, it, ah, seems I have left myself self a note. Something will develop in the ministry this afternoon and I will be needed there later today. I'm afraid I must take my leave. I've discovered it's always best to follow instructions from myself. I get really argumentative when I don't. I shall return tomorrow morning. I'll leave you with a reading list. This may actually work better. You might need the time to gather information from history. I believe you are bright enough, you don't need me reading it to you.”

“I assure you, Professor, that Ms. Granger is more than capable of reading.” Heroine was pleased to see that McGonagall was almost smiling.

“The nearest point where you'll be able to apparate is Hogsmeade. I will have Hagrid arrange a carriage for you.” McGonagall walked toward the window and opened it. In the time she spent writing a note, a large barn owl had appeared on the window ledge. She tied the note to it's leg, and it flew out across the grounds.

Professor Croaker packed away his materials, and left Hermione with a small list of chapters and various books to read over the afternoon.

Hermione took the list. “Thank you, Professor. I hope whatever is going to transpire isn't too difficult to resolve.”

“Ah, thank you my dear. I should be just fine. It was a pleasure.” He donned his hat and tipped it towards her. “Until tomorrow, then.” And he left, heading down to the entrance hall.

McGonagall packed up her lesson plans while Hermione put her quill, parchment, and books into her bag.

“Alright, Ms. Granger, let's go to the library and find your materials. Shall we?”

Their footsteps echoed through the corridors and stairwells. While they walked, Hermione noticed a few things. First, the halls and corridors of the school smelled different. She supposed this had to do with the lack of bodies stuck in the throes of puberty. Second, she noticed most of the portraits were vacant. It was as though the lack of students ambling by left them bored, so they wandered off to other portraits. She would see one or two in a corridor that were full of people from other portraits. They were usually having little tea parties. Occasionally, they came across a portrait with a raucous party in its frame as well as the frames directly next to it.

A loud crash from the floor above broke the silence. The pair came to an abrupt hault.

“Peeves!” McGonagall roared. She sighed and began walking in the direction of the noise. She spoke hastily over her shoulder, “My dear, you undoubtedly know your way to the Library. I expect a thorough essay, no less than 24 inches, to be handed in at dinnertime. I believe this will be a relatively simple task, without Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to distract you.”

Hermione stood, wide eyed, as McGonagall stomped up the stairs, yelling threats after Peeves the Poltergeist.

When the irritated Professor had disappeared, Hermione felt a lightness come over her. An afternoon of uninterrupted study! The only appropriate response she could see was to skip the rest of the way to the library. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I did much research on the 4th dimension as it relates to physical space before a good friend (who is much smarter than I) told me people merely reference "Time" as the "fourth dimension." And then, basically, my brain turned to jam so I stopped my research. If you want a great video on the dimensions, watch this: https://youtu.be/mu5URbh-Lh0


	5. Long absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why I've been away...

I'm exceptionally terrible at this. 

I strung you along and then disappeared. What a jerk!

Thank you for comments and kudos, I really enjoy receiving them. They definitely boost my morale. 

"But why, dandelion?! Why u no write more chapters?"

Because I'm a heap o' poo!

No, actually, I'm quite lovely in person (after coffee). 

My Boo and I bought a house, and that house is a fixer upper, and I'm the fixer. So I've been hucking old crap out and putting new stuff in. It's really fun, but very time consuming and not even close to hgtv. I even had to start writing stuff down. Like a grown up. 

I keep WANTING to dedicate time to writing, but it's just not there. 

My current plan is to share with you the plot points I had written out before my hiatus, just in the hopes of my own personal closure. It's a crappy way to end this fic. However, I do think there are other authors doing a good job of writing this story. 

On a personal note; I more-so enjoyed writing "Blind date." I get stuck in my head trying to stay canonical. Writing an AU is much less stressful. I may try my hand at that again here in the future. 

I am thrilled that people care enough to leave a kudos or a comment. This is a wonderful creative outlet for me. I think it's opened up a lot of channels in my brain. 

I hope that this redirection doesn't anger you. But if it does, I understand. It would piss me off too. 

Thank you for reading, 

Dan3l1on

P.s. Please excuse errors. I've had a lot of wine tonight.


	6. I'm back!

ACK!

How did this much time go by without me posting a damn thing?! 

Summary: In May of 2016 we moved two states over. Bought house. Fixed up house. I was still fixing up the house in September 2017 when we sold and are now (October '17) mid relocation. I am currently at my parents house in limbo. With no car. Nothing to fix up (they rent). And no friends in this town. No job b/c I stay home with the kiddo. So! Between nap time (oh blessed, most sacred nap time) and the occasional episode of obnoxious children's programming...

I. FINALLY. HAVE. TIME. 

To finish. Time. 

In all the chaos and heartbreak of upheaval, I have escaped to hogwarts numerous times.  
Book  
Audiobook  
Fanfics  
Movies  
And my new favorite podcast-Harry Potter and the Sacred Text omg if you like taking a deeper look at this series please indulge yourself in this podcast. So good. 

When I started this fic, my son was 18mo old. He's 3 now. He points at my deathly hallows cover and says, "Das you, Momma!"  
I do have short hair and glasses, but it makes me wonder if i shouldn't comb my hair more...

If you're still reading this, I appreciate you. Thank you for sharing the human experience with me. 

Now! Flip to the next chapter, because OO QUEEN are we gonna have fun!


	7. To the Library!

Once again, Hermione felt something haunting her as she approached the library. She hated the feeling, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, the constant urge to look behind her, wanting to run. Why did it have to happen right outside her favorite place? Why did she have to see the Basilisk here? She hoped that when the school year started this dreadful haunting would subside.

As she approached the door, she could see a note stuck to it with spellotape. It read:

_In Diagon Alley, picking up supplies at Flourish and Blotts. Will return tomorrow._

_-Mme. Pinze_

Hermione opened the door and stood, alone, in the entrance of the library. The Time Turner swung from her hand, catching the late afternoon light that poured in through the windows. She only had an hour, but if she did things right, she had all the time in the world.


End file.
